Before Monica went to bed, she� out of her window and saw the moon. The moon looked so . I wish I could the moon, thought Monica... and reached for it. But no matter how much she stretched, she could not� the moon. "Papa," said Monica to her father, " get the moon for me."
Papa got a very� ladder. He carried the very long ladder towards a very high . Then Papa put the very long ladder on top of the very high mountain. Up and up and up he climbed. Finally, Papa got to the moon.
"My� Monica would like to play with you but you're much too big" said Papa.
"Every� I get a little smaller," said the moon. When I am just the right size, you can take me with you." And indeed, the moon got smaller.... and smaller.... and smaller. When the moon was just the� size, Papa took it.� Down and down and down he climbed.
"," said Papa to Monica, "I have the moon for you." Monica jumped and danced with the moon.� She� the moon and threw it into the air. But the moon kept� smaller and smaller and smaller. And finally, it disappeared altogether. Then, one night, Monica saw a� sliver of the moon reappear. Each night the moon grew, and grew, and grew.
��This story was written by Eric Carle.
He wrote it for his daughter - his way of telling her how much he loved her.�